Past Midnight
by Reversalsun
Summary: Remember what it was like when you were a kid and your parents caught you staying up past your bedtime? Now imagine that happening to a bunch of adults. Centers around La Squadra Di Esecuzione. An old piece transferred over from my writing blog.


The man huffed and turned his key. With a tiny click the door opened. Risotto slipped inside, taking great care to close the door gently behind him. It must have been past 3 A.M. now- any sound he made carried the risk of waking someone. As he slipped off his shoes, indistinct chatter hit his ears. His first thought was that Formaggio had fallen asleep with the television on, but the wave of laughter that followed soon after shattered his hopes.

"Really.." he scowled and moved toward the noise's source. Down the hall he could see dull electric light flooding out of the main common room. At least they had enough sense to keep the volume relatively low. Risotto stopped in the doorway and scanned the room. Prosciutto, Melone, Illuso, and Formaggio were lounging in front of the TV. What was left of a picked over meal and a mountain of dirty dishes had been piled on the coffee table in front of them. He could see a few cups and bottles from where he was standing; He prayed there weren't more tipped over on the floor.

The man stood and waited, not even letting his breath make a sound. Risotto watched the group. They seemed to be having a good time. He almost felt bad that he'd soon have to break up the fun. But they had work to do in the morning, every one of them knew that. He had no qualms about being a downer if it was in their best interest.

Predictably, it was Prosciutto that noticed him first. Before he'd even looked away from the group, he'd straightened up and gone quiet. He stayed like that for a moment. Risotto was sure that he was hoping his sudden intuition was wrong. The man swiftly turned his head and met Risotto's gaze. In a split second the blond's expression turned from nervous to guilty. He shifted his eyes away from prosciutto and onto the rest of the group. The rest were still absorbed in their program.

Melone was the next to notice, prompted by his ally's sudden odd behavior. A soft 'Oh' escaped his lips, alerting Illuso to their leader's presence. All but Formaggio now reflected a look of shock. The redhead was too caught up in a mediocre joke to notice the change of atmosphere. Illuso quickly jabbed him in the ribs. Formaggio's head whipped around to face his friend, quite ready to hurl a few less-than-polite sentences his way, but a glimpse of Risotto caused the words to lump together and get stuck in his throat.

The five of them stayed that way for awhile; Risotto looking at his team with a disappointed expression, and his team staring back at him like a pack of shamefaced dogs. After what seemed like a millennium, their boss cleared his throat.

"I thought you all would have known better." he remarked. Each assassin was clearly taking care in planning their next actions as Risotto's eyes bore into them.

"We didn't really think it would be an issue, we've stayed up later than this in the past." Illuso replied. Suddenly all attention had turned to him. For a few seconds the man felt horribly isolated, wondering if he'd just made an awful mistake. But soon, Formaggio spoke up.

"Yeah, I mean, we're adults right? We can make our own decisions on how late we stay up 'nd how much sleep we need." The redhead offered his backup with a shaky grin. Illuso wasn't very impressed with his friend's response- he'd never really had a way with words, and it was likely that he'd just made the situation worse.

"Yes you're right." Risotto's words took the group by surprise. They all seemed to relax a bit- all except Prosciutto. Having been through so much with the man- and being chewed out by him quite a bit -he knew that their lecture wouldn't end so quickly.

"I think I'm going to bed then, it is getting pretty late." Melone broke in. But before he could try to escape, a glare from their leader cemented his feet in place. The tense air returned as the group realized they weren't off the hook yet.

"You all are adults, and you knew very well that we have important tasks to do in the morning. Yet you still decided to forego sleep to make a mess and watch some show." Risotto gestured toward the coffee table. The program buzzed behind them. "When did you forget that our job puts our lives on the line?" As the Capo paused to let his words sink in, Melone grabbed the remote and turned off the television. "It can take only seconds to turn the tide of a battle. Less to kill someone. Losing sleep makes you slower. Clean up your mess and go to bed." Their leader turned away and walked back down the hall, leaving the rest of the assassins to stew in self-reproach.

"You heard him, come on." Prosciutto began gathering the used dishes " Melone, help me with this. Can you two pick up the garbage?" The blond lifted his eyes to Formaggio and Illuso, who were still frozen in place from their brief scolding. They snapped out of their daze when his words hit them. Illuso nodded, and quickly began collecting the empty bottles.

Prosciutto passed a pile of plates to Melone, who toted them to kitchen. After gathering the remaining utensils, he followed. The other had already begun scraping any left over food into the disposal, so Prosciutto offered a hand in loading the dishwasher.

"I guess we should have seen this coming, right?" Melone began, turning to glance at his comrade for a moment.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess so. I should have listened to Pesci," Prosciutto responded. Small talk wasn't bad, it could help pass time. He was never quite sure what he thought of Melone, but that didn't mean he was going to ignore or avoid him. "He was thinking straight and tried to tell me that it wasn't a great idea to stay up late. Turns out he was correct. Smart kid."

"Do you think he knew Risotto was going to be upset?" The blond asked.

"Nah, I don't really think so, It was just him knowing that we needed our sleep for tomorrow." While speaking Prosciutto rearranged a few bowls to make room for another plate.

"He leaves worrying about the capo to you I guess." Melone rinsed his hands off and dried them on his shirt. "We all do that, actually." He added, a bemused smile sneaking onto his face.

"Trust me I've noticed. I'm fine with that, it's not as difficult for me." Prosciutto looked over his work. He'd managed to make the load's arrangement a bit less sloppy, but there were still a few dishes piled over each other. It was things like this that made him agree with Risotto; for a bunch of adults, they could be pretty immature.

"Of course it's not. You've got like, a sixth sense concerning him." Melone suggested.

"Knowing someone well and being psychic are two different things. Yeah, he's hard to understand sometimes, but it's not impossible. I've just known him longer and talked to him more." He informed. Melone chuckled a bit. Was it just him or did Prosciutto always seem annoyed by the topic? Maybe the others asked about it too much. In any case, it was something to watch for.

"Well, either way, I'm going to sleep now. See you in the morning." He patted Prosciutto's head - earning an angry growl from the other - and exited. On the way to his room, he caught a glimpse of Formaggio and Illuso arguing about something. He felt a slight urge to eavesdrop, but decided that it was a better plan to continue forward- and not run the risk of invoking more of Risotto's wrath.

Back in the common room, Illuso crossed his arms and glared defiantly at his friend. The redhead only threw his shoulders back and rolled his eyes.

"It's a good idea. It's quicker than walking ALL the way out to the curb!" Formaggio exclaimed. Illuso still seemed less than impressed.

"But we can't just leave trash lying around, no matter how small we make it. Everyone here knows that you do this. Haven't you caught on to that yet? You've gotten in trouble for it at least twice this week!" He snapped.

"Okay, fine. New plan. Bring out your stand, we'll throw everything into the mirror world." Formaggio grinned, seeing no flaws in his logic. Illuso took on a look of unsurprised exasperation.

"No, we are not doing that. If we did, you'd just leave it in there until I got upset and cleaned it myself. You're taking out the trash this time, whether you like it or not." the assassin's tone had become more demanding. The redhead only groaned in response, sinking down into a chair and avoiding eye contact with the other, who stood sternly in front of him. Illuso held the bag of trash out toward Formaggio and waited silently.

Eventually their eyes met. Formaggio's lethargic expression turned to one of determined disobedience. Illuso stood his ground and waited.

Prosciutto peeked out from the kitchen- the lack of their usual chatter and sudden intense silence had struck him as slightly concerning. Upon viewing their stand off, he decided that it was best to just let this run it's course.

Illuso's stony resolve paid off in the end, as his friend finally lifted himself off the couch and snatched the bag with a belligerent grunt. The black haired man smiled to himself. Maybe there was a first time for everything.

"Never thought I'd see that. You didn't even have to threaten him. Very impressive." Prosciutto watched as Formaggio slunk out of the house.

"It wasn't that impressive. I guess I just know how he works." Illuso shrugged. The blonde looked around the room. The mess was gone and everything seemed to be in order. There was no need for him to supervise any longer.

"Be sure he gets in without hurting himself. Night." Prosciutto remarked. Illuso offered a little wave as the other walked out of sight. He closed his room's door as softly as he could and flicked off the light. He didn't have to worry about tripping in the darkness, as he always kept his floor clean - and the rest of his room along with it. The blond sighed. Nights like this always left him with a strong feeling of content, even if they did sometimes end with the capo angry. That didn't bother him though. Prosciutto knew that his scoldings never came from abhorrence. Risotto only berated their actions because he wanted, no, needed them to be careful. He was right. Assassins put their lives on the line everyday.

One slip up could cost them their lives. Risotto just didn't want that to happen.

"I don't want that either." He whispered to himself, staring wistfully at the ceiling. He hypothesized that truly, none of them did. Even Ghiaccio, who had cursed death upon his teammates more times than one could count. Or Melone, who's cheerfully detached nature could sometimes cause those around him to fret. Formaggio, Sorbet, Gelato, Pesci, Illuso. All of them. Prosciutto felt that deep inside, each of them knew how much they actually cared for one another. Maybe they didn't always recognize it, or were able to put it into words, but they were definitely able to sense it in some small way. A system of emotions and the bonds of a family that tied them all together.

Prosciutto smirked, he was getting a bit too sappy for a man of his position. If he let this continue, he feared he might end up confessing his love to anyone who passed him on the street, or crying in front of complete strangers. He'd never been the type to let his emotions run wild like that. It just didn't look good. Fearing that he might grow more sentimental the longer he stayed conscious, the man closed his eyes and drifted off into sleep.


End file.
